<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>This May Be the Last of All the Rides We Take by lev1athan</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170377">This May Be the Last of All the Rides We Take</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lev1athan/pseuds/lev1athan'>lev1athan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Danger Days Era, Fluff, M/M, Permanent Injury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:48:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lev1athan/pseuds/lev1athan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kobra Kid is a racer, it's what he loves. When an accident occurs leaving Kobra worse for wear, he isn't sure if he'll ever feel like himself again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sunrise Racer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello welcome to this train wreck<br/>Please convince me to continue this, I need to write more often and also not make you suffer for my laziness.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The whole day Kobra Kid had steadily been growing hotter under his collar. Obviously the glaringly toxic desert sun was doing him no favors, Kobra burned like the best of them when it came to the zone's hottest feature, but it wasn’t the sun that had his blood boiling today. It was something much worse, or at least much smaller than the sun, since what was getting him so hot was Show Pony and their inability to shut their mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra had to admit, when Pony had made that daring last second hair-pin turn that had saved all of their asses on a run, he had been pretty impressed. Being a fellow racer himself and able to appreciate a good move when he saw one, Kobra had been quick to congratulate Pony on their driving. Which was a mistake, of course. The moment the compliment left his mouth it went straight through Ponies helmet and into their head, and they hadn’t stopped talking about it since. Kobra has lost track of the amount of times Pony had retold the story as the group had unloaded the spoils of their run at the diner, and now he, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, Party Poison, and Dr. D were sitting around a fire enjoying a well deserved can of power-pup, and they still wouldn’t stop talking. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra wasn’t the kind of person to get angry easily, and he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to deal head on with conflict. When he was younger, living in Battery city, he had had a much easier time blending in than his brother did thanks to his shy nature. Teachers and friends all commented on how quiet and well behaved he was, and at home he would sit and listen to the radio without making a sound for hours. There must have been something in the air, some kind of chemical, or maybe he was tired, the sand in his boots rubbing him just the wrong way, because he was as surprised as the next person when he finally snapped. Pony was about halfway through their most recent re-telling when Kobra finally shouted:</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Will you shut up already!? I can’t hear myself think!” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>For a moment, everyone simply stared back at him, just as shocked as he was from his sudden outburst. His eyes flickered over to his brother for a moment, and he could see that Party Poison was smiling a little, but mostly he just wanted to stare daggers as Show Pony to communicate just how done he was. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well looks someone’s got a bee in their blaster,” Pony teased, his face also moving into a grin, “what’s a matter? Afraid your gonna lose your title as best racer in the zones?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra blanched a little at that. That wasn’t he had been getting at at all, why did Pony have to bring that up? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What?! No!” He finally stuttered, “I just-just will you shut up about the run today?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sure thing, I knew you didn’t care about that title anyways.” Pony said, giving his spoon a lick and letting it hang from his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don't.” Kobra huffed, trying his best to sound sure of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You don’t.” Pony repeated, but Kobra couldn’t tell what tone they meant. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But if you did, or if you wanted to defend your title…” Pony trailed off, looking at Kobra over the flames. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Then he’d tell that person who wanted to challenge him to meet for a race tomorrow, at dawn, and that he’d beat the shit out of them.” Poison said, inserting himself into the conversation and next to his brother. Kobra glared at his brother but Poison simply winked at him and slung his arm over Kobras shoulders. They both turned to look at Pony, who was giving them both an appraising look, no doubt trying to tell how far the venom brothers were really going to take this. Kobra started to hope that Pony would accept, if only to be given the chance to soundly bring them down from the pedestal Kobra had placed them on. He wasn’t in the habit of letting Poison set up such stupid challenges, but maybe Kobra did have something to prove. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright,” Pony finally agreed, “We’ll race tomorrow at dawn.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Get ready to pack the heat little brother.” Poison said, clapping him on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The rest of the night was mercifully free of race talk, and as the crew slowly drifted off to bed, Kobra grabbed his tape player and retreated to the roof, one of his favorite quiet places. It was free from the cramped space in the diner, but he also needed time to think about the race tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Racing wasn’t really an event Kobra prepared for in the normal way; sure a person could practice and drive and pour their investments into a good car, but it wasn’t like that for Kobra. Racing was something he felt in his gut. Something he just did, when his body took over and he went from gangly and quiet and became the edge of a blade, quick and sharp. It was a transformation where suddenly there would be nothing but him and the car, and the acrid smell of gasoline burning in his nose. He knew how to move the car as well as his own body, and he loved it almost as much as life itself. But he couldn’t be that kind of racer if he was distracted, so he needed to tune out. To remember what it felt like to be in his body and not at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra was well on his way to race heaven when he heard a knock coming from behind him. He startled a little, but when he turned, he could see that it was Jet Star, his curly hair peeking out from the opening in the tin roof. Kobra pulled off his headphones, to let Jet know he was listening. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey,” Jet called softly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey.” Kobra answered</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Did you want to be alone?” Jet asked, sound apologetic. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No.” Kobra replied, scooting himself to the side a little to make room for Jet. Jet clambered the rest of the way up the ladder and onto the roof, then settled himself besides Kobra. For a moment, they were both quiet as they gazed up at the star, but eventually Jet broke the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So,” Jet started “What was that earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What was what?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It was nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ok,” Jet finally said after a pause, “but just so you know, I don’t care if you’re the best racer in Zone 6.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra looked down at his hands, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t been bothered until Pony had brought it up, that was for damn sure. He wasn’t certain if Jet was saying this because he thought that Kobra had let Pony get to him, or if he thought Kobra genuinely felt insecure about his racing skills. Either way, Jet wasn’t the type to be insincere, so Kobra decided to let it slide. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” He whispered, unwillingly to make another big deal out of something, but wanting to let Jet know he appreciated the gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Always.” Jet replied, clapping Kobra on the back, “And anyways I think you’ll crush Show Pony tomorrow, he really isn’t all that.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra just laughed and gave Jet a trademark half smile. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>–</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Racing in the zones revolved almost entirely around the sun, and not just because that was how to tell time. A good racer could handle any condition, but wrecking a precious commodity like a car just because the driver was sun blind was dumb enough that most killjoys tried to avoid it. Sunrise was perfect because the desert was still cool, the drac patrols were the least active, and there was just enough light to see the dusty desert roads. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra loved how the desert went from starry and dark to just beginning to be touched with soft purple colors as the light began to filter into the world. It was the kind of inbetween that he felt while racing, and it was so perfect that he and the desert became part of the same intersection of being at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was already behind the wheel, eyes closed. He felt the thrum of the engine as it echoed in his chest and rattled out with his breath. He inhaled the fuel-scent tinged with cold, and he could tell he was entering the place, the state of mind he loved best. Somewhere beside him, Show Pony was in their car, and then beyond them, his brother, Jet and Ghoul and Dr. Dr would be watching. Kobra opened his eyes and singled in on Jet, who was holding a brightly covered kerchief in the air, and waited for the signal. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He shot out of the start like a bullet when the kerchief dropped. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Racing with Pony wasn’t easy or hard, it just was. They had both raced on that section of Route Guano before, so there was no element of surprise, no shortcuts, no fear to impede either of them. They twisted around each other on the track, engines roaring as they bobbed back and forth, both trying to get ahead. It would be close, Kobra knew that, but when they came to the final corner before the finish line, he saw his moment and darted up ahead and took a sharper turn than Pony to get ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Kobra had done this trick hundreds of times before. In races, in runs. It wasn’t the most dangerous move to pull, he had done much worse before and come out fine. But something was different this time. Something in the angle, and the way the car was moving wasn’t right. He was tilted, suddenly, and then he was upside down and very, very high in the air and he couldn't see anything but the sky, and something glittering in the air. Were those the stars? He didn’t know, but he wondered if that meant he was flying. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And then the car hit the ground and rolled, and Kobra screamed. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ouroboros</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The race doesn't end well, but what's going to happen to KK? Written from Party Poison's perspective.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Party Poison loved to watch his younger brother race. There was just something about watching Kobra’s face change from that passive look and subtly shift into a determined smirk when he was behind that wheel that made Poison’s heart swell. Making his brother happy was as much Poison's thing as racing was Kobra’s. So when Show Pony had started getting up in Kobra’s business about being a better racer, Poison was quick to step in and defend his brother. Why wouldn’t he, after all, Poison knew how good of a racer Kobra was. He was capable, confident, and had a natural skill for it. He was invincible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost invincible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for now Poison was starting to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake by suggesting the challenge. Even before the two racers got to the final corner, Poison could hear the roar of their engines, but when the cars finally came into view, he immediately knew something wasn’t right. Something about the way that Kobra hit the turn, the way the wheels of the car twisted and slid on the pavement, was so wrong. Poison felt his stomach clench as he watched the car tilt and fly off the road, rolling several times and before coming to a stop, upside down, several hundred feet away from the finish line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison was running before the car even stopped all the way. He could hear Ghoul beside him, shouting something to Jet and Dr. D, and somewhere nearby, Pony had brought their car to a screeching halt. Poison didn’t care, he only had eyes for the smoldering remains of the car, and the pale hand hanging out of the driver-side window. His ears wouldn’t stop ringing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kobra!” He shrieked, “Kobra! Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison and Ghoul slid to a stop in front of the car, frantically looking through the shattered window and saw their friend’s motionless form, dangling from the seat belt. Kobra was covered in dust and Poison could see blood dripping down his brother’s torso and onto the ceiling of the vehicle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh-shit!” Poison choked out, reaching out, “shit, Kobra, come on can you hear me? I’m gonna get you out, hang on!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra let out a low groan, and Poison almost missed it, but his heart jumped a little with relief. His brother was still alive. Poison let out a half sob and then reached for the drivers side door, trying to pull it open. He tugged as hard as he could but the door wouldn’t budge, and he could see that the angle at which it had bent was preventing him from opening the door properly. He and Ghoul gave it a few more desperate tugs before it finally gave in, swinging open and then promptly falling off its hinges onto the desert sand. Poison couldn’t have cared less, as he crouched down urgently to inspect his brother’s limp form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell.” Ghoul whispered in shock, coming to kneel beside Poison, “His leg is hurt real bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison glanced over and then just as quickly glanced away when he saw a bit of white protruding from Kobra’s left thigh. There was blood everywhere, but he could see that the small rivulets of blood running down Kobra’s torso were from the wound on his upper leg. They needed to get him out of the car, now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the two of them, Kobra’s dead weight was a lot but not so much that weren’t able to maneuver him and stretch him out on the sand. His left leg was bashed in badly, and he had several other cuts and scrapes covering the rest of his body. Poison could feel the tears running down his face, but he had been zonerunning long enough to know he needed to fight the panic in order to save his brother’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs a tourniquet,” Poison bit out, “right on the upper thigh or else he’s going to bleed out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghoul nodded quickly and removed his belt, circling it around Kobra’s leg and cinching it tight, and then placing his vest over the worst of the bleeding. Poison busied himself with checking Kobras pupils, and was relieved that he didn’t appear to have a concussion. Just as soon as he knew Kobra was ok Poison was going to glue that stupid ‘good luck’ biking helmet onto his brothers head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. D. and Jet are going back for the van, and Jet’s scanning the waves food coordinates to see if Ouroboros is close by.” Ghoul said, pulling Poison back into reality. Poison nodded mutely and looked back down at his brother's face in his lap. Kobra was naturally pale like his brother, but his skin looked ashy, and his lips are starting to get a bluish tint to them. He was losing blood, and fast. But there was nothing Poison could do then except wait and beg the witch to spare his brother's life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>–</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ouroboros was less of a hospital and more of a circus when it came down to how it operated, but Poison couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. It had been sheer luck that the traveling medical facility had been in the same section of Zone 6 as the wreck and right then, that was all that mattered. He and Ghoul had rushed Kobra into Dr. D’s van and made it to the coordinates they had gotten from the radio in a matter of minutes, quickly getting to the main vehicle at the center of the camp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main vehicle was like a tank on steroids. It moved slower than most cars but what it lacked in speed it made up for in usefulness. With two floors it housed several separate operating rooms, a small med bay, and a storage room with ease. That combined with the small fleet of cars and bikes made it the perfect moving hospital for killjoys. The staff would set up for a few days and unload, put their coordinates out on the waves and then let the zone runners come to them. It lacked the elements of a regular hospital, of course, but that hardly mattered to most patrons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison was sitting in the makeshift waiting room filled with cargo boxes that splintered and dug into his skin as he gripped the boxes rims tightly with both hands. Kobra had been in the ‘operating room’ for over three hours and no one had come out since they started to explain what was going on. The first hour had passed with high anxiety, but eventually Poison’s adrenaline rush had worn off and left him feeling strung out and exhausted. He had run out of tears to shed a long while back, so he simply sat and waited, numb to the rest of the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he felt Ghoul come and settle down next to him, looking just as exhausted as Poison felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Ghoul murmurs, reaching out and unclamping Poison’s hands from the edge of the crate. He placed a soft kiss on Poison’s knuckles, before turning Poison’s hand over and picking out the splinters embedded in his palm. Poison watched quietly, focused for just a moment on the feel of Ghoul’s calloused fingers, before he dragged himself back to the dark reality of the waiting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that,” Ghoul quipped, and of course he knew exactly what Poison was doing. “Don’t drag yourself back down like that. Kobra is gonna be fine, ok? You just focus on being ready to be there for him when he comes out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghoul-” Poison started, turning to look at his crewmate, but Ghoul quickly cut him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I suggested-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You set up a friendly race, not a car crash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison huffed out a breath but stayed quiet. He knew in his head that he didn’t have control over whether or not Kobra wrecked on the track, but he still felt those icky black thoughts creeping around like rot in his brain. There wouldn’t even have been a crash if Poison hadn’t suggested a race, and there certainly wouldn’t have been a crash if Show Pony hadn’t been a total ass and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s out.” came a raspy voice from the other side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghoul and Potions heads both shot up eagerly when they saw the surgeon that had taken Kobra into the OR. The man was covered in blood stains, and Poison couldn’t tell if ‘he’s out’ meant something good or bad, but he quickly stood up and rushed over. Before he could get very far, however, the surgeon held out his arm, preventing Poison from moving forward. For the millionth time that day Poison felt his whole body go on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen your wanted poster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Poison asked, confused but still worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen that kid’s wanted poster too.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man paused, searching Poisons face before finally letting his arm fall and stepping out of the way. Poison stayed where he was, he knew there was more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You killjoys do good work, I’ve heard what you done. You help people out here. I just wish I could have done more for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Done more?” Poison whispered quietly, feeling the blood drain from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to take the leg. Wouldn’t have lasted out here in the desert, he gets an infection and it's game over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poison felt Ghoul’s hand on his back, trying to anchor him, but he could feel his breathing getting shallower. The leg? His brother's leg was gone. He wasn’t sure when, but he started to move. He pushed past several people as he stumbled up and into the main vehicle, his vacant eyes searching. When he came to the door of the OR he just stood, taking in the small form of his brother strapped to a makeshift hospital bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra was looked awful, but at some point someone had cleaned some of the blood and dirt off his face, so he didn’t look as bad as earlier. There were tubes connecting to his arm, and little bags hanging from a sort of IV tree above him. Poison braced himself and let his eyes travel lower. There was a blanket resting over Kobra, but it was obvious where one leg was and where the other wasn’t. Poison blinked a few times, as if he were waiting for his vision to adjust, but Kobra remained on the gurney, small and pale and unmoving. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Vicodin Diner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's been an accident, and you're all invited. <br/>This chapter is short, so meh. <br/>There's a slightly graphic description of an injury here, if that's not your thing be warned. When the bandage changing starts, that is your que to leave.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up was a struggle, but when Kobra finally came to, he knew something was wrong. His whole body ached, and he could tell he was bruised all over. But that wasn’t what tipped him off. It was the way his crew was hovering over him, looking down with gaunt faces and casting anxious glances at one another. In a world where noise was everything, it took a lot to make the fabulous killjoys silent. <br/>    Ghoul was the first to speak. <br/>    “Hey man,” He whispered hoarsely, “how are you feeling?”<br/>    “Alright.” Kobra lied. The room still felt heavy and quiet, so Kobra decided to push a little. He needed to know what had everyone so on edge. He was able to answer his own question pretty quickly when he sat up, however, and felt a sharp bolt of pain going down his legs. Well, leg. Sitting had changed his view of the lower half of his body, which left him staring down at the small valley of dirty sheet where his left leg should have been. <br/>    “Oh my God…” he uttered, and icy dread started to seep into his body. This wasn’t happening. There was just no way. Kobra drifted his shaking hand down toward the covering and slowly lifted it off his body. Some of his thigh was still left, but not much, and the small stump of it was wrapped carefully in gauze, much too clean and white and for the desert. He stared down at it, willing his mind to wake him up from whatever nightmare he was in, but everything remained as suffocating as it had been before. Kobra felt hot tears start to gather in his eyes, obscuring the vision of his ruined body, but it didn’t take the pain away. He wanted nothing more than to get up and run out of the hospital, but as it was he could only clutch weakly at the handlebars of his bed.<br/>    Kobra desperately wanted to close his eyes and open them again to see his missing leg, but it didn’t happen. The empty space of his body felt like a void, sucking him in and demanding his attention. He could feel the way his right leg was shaking, and the ghost of the sensation traveling down his thigh and into nothing. He had never felt this broken before, this out of order. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. What kind of Killjoy was Kobra going to be without a leg? His body started to shake harder as the reality of his situation set in, and he hunched over his damaged limb, panting heavily. <br/>    And then Poison was there, releasing Kobra’s grip on the cold metal and trying to push him back up. For a moment they fought, Kobra desperately trying to get away, and Poison trying to console his brother. They wrestled for only a second though, before Kobra felt himself breaking down and losing the last of his strength. He clutched at his brother's sunburned shoulders, gripping the fabric of his worn-out shirt tightly between his hands. Then he finally let out a heart wrenching sob and buried his face in Poison's neck. <br/>    Neither of them let go for a very long time. <br/>-<br/>The mood in the diner was grim, and had been for the last two days, since the killjoys had left Ourobouros. The subsequent ride home had been difficult, since the bumps and potholes jostled Kobra’s leg, making him cry out in pain. By the time they had made it back both Poison and Kobra were holding back tears, and Jet had been gripping the steering wheel of the van so tightly his knuckles were white. They’d cleared a small space for Kobra in between two of the upturned booths, so that they could take turns sitting with him, while he remained lying on a makeshift cot. <br/>Kobra was quiet most of the time, still recovering from the amputation, his senses dulled from the vicodin the doctor had prescribed for him. That didn’t stop the thoughts from racing in his mind, however, and it felt as though they deteriorated him. He had already imagined thousands of situations where he completed the race, or that he hadn’t been goaded by Show Pony in the first place. <br/>The hospital had given him some pamphlets about how to cope with the loss of a limb, but just looking at them made Kobra feel sick to his stomach. Jet kept them tucked carefully away in his room most of the time, reading them obsessively. He would try to get Kobra to talk it out, when they were sitting in the weak sun of the dinner, but after the first few times, Kobra felt pretty checked out. He would simply lean his head on Jet’s shoulder and wait until Jet gave up and let them drift into silence. <br/>Kobra had nightmares, vivid ones, about the crash. He could feel the steering wheel start to slip from his grasp as the car peeled out, but no matter what he did, no matter how slow the dream was, he couldn’t reach for the steering wheel to yank the car back into control. Sometimes he woke up because he swore he could feel the motion of the car as it flew into the air and began to roll. His face stung where he could feel the shattered glass cutting across his face. Sometimes he woke up screaming, and he didn’t know why. The first time he did that, Jet, Poison, and Ghoul all rushed to his side, and had to hold him down until he stopped thrashing. After that they took shifts, holding him down and consoling him until he was able to come back down and realize where he was.<br/>They all helped change the bandages too, and there was no hiding the grimaces that they each made when they took turns wrapping the mottled flesh. Looking at it when Poison removed the original bandages was an event in and of itself, and Kobra knew there was a part of him that was hoping that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it seemed when the gauze came off. He was wrong. <br/>The skin of his upper leg was still sensitive in many places from the crash, matching the burns that covered the rest of his body. The actual amputation had been done at Kobra’s mid thigh, but the tearing started well before that, and traveled almost all the way up to his groin. There was a series of black stitches that weaved their way along his leg, pinching together angry red flesh until it reached the end. The stump of it was much the same, although he couldn’t quite see because of the angle of it. He didn’t care to see either. <br/>Kobra had been dreading seeing his leg for the first time, but he was surprised at how comfortably numb he was when it happened. It wasn’t until after Poison had wrapped it back in bandages that he felt the panic setting in. There was literally a piece of him missing, and he could only sit there, staring at the clean, gauze-wrapped stump of his former leg, and let the situation wash over him. The heaving breaths started to come, followed by tears and eventually with more pain pills, dragging him down into oblivion. <br/>After that, his crew made sure to give him his pills before they changed the bandage. Kobra was in no position to stop them, so he let it happen. He wondered how many of the grey capsules it would take to fix him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. As Good As Dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*Angst*</p><p>Thank you all so much for leaving kudos and comments, it really helps me to keep going!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wood of the crutches felt rough and scratchy under Kobra’s hands as he limped his way toward the diner’s backdoor. In one hand he was gripping an unplugged soldering iron, and in the other he had a bucket of scrap metal, which was banging against his right leg. Each few steps he had to pause and readjust his grip on the handle of his crutches so that he didn’t drop any of the tools he was holding. He still felt like his arms were weaker than before, after spending so long stationary and his body being pumped full of narcotics. <br/>The crutches had been Ghoul’s creation, although Ghoul had promised Kobra he would try and come up with something better as soon as he could. Kobra was still sort of impressed though, since they were made out of wood, which was impossible to find in the desert. The armrests were wrapped in old gauze to make it more comfortable to rest on, but the handles below were bare, hence the roughness. <br/>Kobra still couldn’t move around well, despite the mobility aids, but he couldn’t bear not being able to walk around on his own. For the first couple of weeks he remained in bed, and only moved with the help of one of his crewmates. The late night bathroom trips were getting to be too much though, and Kobra practically begged Ghoul to help him figure something out. It did nothing to help his case when Poison pointed out that Kobra was still supposed to be on bed rest. <br/>And he was, for at least a month more. The doctor at the hospital had done his best to lay out a treatment plan that could be kept up in the desert, but he was very firm when he explained that Kobra needed to stay off his feet for the first two to four months before trying any kind of crutch or cane. The doctor was probably right too, Kobra could feel that his body wasn’t ready for the strain he was placing on it. Physically he was lighter, but it only threw him off balance, and it was impossible for him to get back up on his own just then. That and the fact that he was still healing. <br/>The wound itself was still red in many places, and the sown together skin was still rippled in ugly patterns along the stump of his leg. Most of the burning had healed, but the scars still left a grim reminder of the trauma of the crash. Sometimes Kobra would trace the outline of the raised line of his skin, when he was alone. He didn’t want to, but he could imagine the heat of the explosion burning him, melting his skin away and leaving only flesh behind. He shuddered at the memory, trying to push it aside and focus limping a few more steps forward. <br/>When he finally got to the workshop in the back of the diner, he was sweating from the effort, and a shooting pain was firing through his stump from being jostled so much. He rushed to the bench and practically collapsed down on it, trying to ignore how badly he was shaking. The pain was unlike any other he had felt, jolting white hot through his body from the tip of his stump all the way up into his shoulder. It traveled in mind numbing throbs, leaving him pale and panting. <br/>Kobra took a few moments, resting his forehead on the counter and trying to breathe through the sensation until he was able to focus again. He wasn’t sure how well this trick actually worked, but when he had started running out of vicodin, he knew he had to start finding other ways to manage the pain. As much as he wanted to spend all his days in a drug induced haze, he knew it was the same tactic that BL/ind used to force compliance on all of their citizens, and he was not about to turn to the dark side because he couldn't handle a little pain. <br/>He wasn’t fixed, he knew that much, but the pills didn’t bring his leg back in the first place, and aside from that he had other demons to fight. He could feel it in him, something dark and ugly, twisting around in his mind and his heart, dying to get out, but he wouldn’t let it. He felt trapped enough in his body at the moment, and letting out whatever nasty thing was curling inside him felt like too much. He wasn’t ready to confront something like that when he didn’t feel like himself. <br/>That’s why Kobra was working now, late into the night, in the back of the diner when everyone else was asleep. He wasn’t much of a techie, that was ghoul’s department, but he needed to do something to keep himself busy. It was like he could feel the awful thoughts crawling over his skin like radioactive centipedes, desperate to borough deep into him and never leave. When he had first come home from the hospital, he had been plagued with nightmares, forced to relive the crash over and over again. Now with all of his loud thoughts,  he didn’t even make it to bed until he was too sleep deprived to do anything other than crash. <br/>He was pretty sure Jet knew about the sleepless night he had spent working, tinkering on useless tools. Jet hadn’t said anything to Kobra yet, just pursed his lips in concern until Kobra tried to distract him, so Kobra supposed he had gotten away with it. Poison on the other hand, had been begun to be a little overbearing. Kobra knew it was just because his brother was worried, but sometimes Poison’s concern felt suffocating, like a too-tight sleeping bag pulled over Kobra’s head. Maybe Poison was right to be worried, but Kobra didn’t want to be a burden. <br/>Remembering that was why he had come into the workshop in the first place, Kobra moved to assemble his materials on the table so that he could start working on the new circuit-board for the vend-a-hack. It had been acting up the last few runs, or so Ghoul had told him, so Kobra wanted to get a head start on it. Before he could though, Kobra realized he had left his work gloves by his sleeping bag in the front of the dinner. For a moment he considered working without them, but the thought of burning hot liquid metal immediately deterred him, he absolutely could not damage his hands. <br/>He sat still in the booth, preparing himself to get up, but before he could steel himself to do it, he could tell something was shifting in him. He felt hot tears start to form in the corner of his eyes, and he just couldn’t will them away. He fought with himself, wanting more than anything for the awful feelings inside of him to go away but they wouldn’t. He was useless, slow, a sad excuse for a real killjoy. Before he would have been able to run back to his things to retrieve the gloves in less than a minute. Before he wouldn’t even have been up in the middle of the night working on no-good tech projects, because he would have been enjoying some well earned rest after a long day of runs. <br/>Kobra slammed his palms down hard on the counter top, yearning for some kind of physical release. The force of the hit shook the table, and Kobra did it again and again and again until the bucket of scrap metal fell off the table, clattering to the floor in a halo of spilled pieces. He froze, hoping that the loud noise hadn’t totally woken any of his crewmates up. He quickly scrubbed at his face, wanting to erase any signs of his little breakdown, should one of the others come looking for him. <br/>Kobra felt sufficiently composed by the time he heard Poison’s voice calling out for him, just beyond the back doors. <br/>“Kobes?” came an anxious voice, still hoarse from sleep. Poison appeared from behind the door, eyes looking wild and panicked as he searched for the source of the noise. <br/>“What happened?” Poison asked, quickly coming over to the counter, clearly worried. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?” <br/>“No-” Kobra started, but Poison quickly interrupted him. <br/>“What are you doing out of bed?” He asked, and moved to kneel besides Kobra.<br/>“I was...working on something.” Kobra mumbled quietly, looking at his hands. “The scrap bucket fell over, that’s all.”<br/>“Oh...” Poison said in a flat tone. “Well, you should be resting, come on, let's get you back in the bag and settled.” <br/>With that Poison slung his arm under Kobra’s leg and hoisted him up into his arms bridal style. Kobra began to protest, wanting to walk but Poison merely hushed him and walked briskly into the other room. Kobra could see in the dim light that Ghoul and Jet were still both laying down, but the way they were breathing wasn’t even enough for either of them to be asleep. They were waiting, waiting to see what was wrong, what kind of mistake Kobra had made. It made Kobra want to curl inside of himself and never be seen again. <br/>Poison set Kobra down on his sleeping bag softly, and then started arranging the cotton pillow that they had gotten for Kobra’s leg so that it propped up his stump to make him more comfortable. <br/>“I can do it.” Kobra whispered, reaching out for the pillow. <br/>“It’s fine.” Poison said and continued to arrange the pillows “You don’t need to worry about it, I’ve got you. Just rest.”<br/>Kobra laid his head down submissively and stared up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as his brother fussed over him. At some point Poison stopped and Kobra knew Poison was staring, but Kobra stared resolutely up at the ceiling. He didn’t know how long Poison stayed like that, just watching him, but Kobra refused to play the part of the patient.<br/>“You can go back to sleep.” Kobra said eventually, his voice nearly inaudible. <br/>“Ok.” Poison said, but he still didn’t move. <br/>“I’ll call for you if I need you.” <br/>With that, Poison hoisted himself up and cast one more furtive glance at his brother before going to settle down in his own sleeping bag next to Ghoul. Kobra could hear him shifting around, trying to get comfortable, and waited until there was no more noise before letting his fist unclench and relax. He stayed awake staring at the ceiling for a long time that night, almost like he was waiting for the sun to come up. </p><p>–<br/>The black market was about as close as the killjoys could get to having any kind of central meeting place, which made missing it a big deal. It was the one chance most crews had to exchange information, give directions to abandoned hideouts, trade supplies, and get friendly with each other. It was essential to survival to be connected to the black market. <br/>Which was why Kobra had insisted that he go with the rest of his crewmates. Aside from the fact that Kobra had been homebound for the last two months, things had been pretty tight due to no longer having a fourth newly disabled crewmate. He wanted so badly to help in any way that he could, and the black market was absolutely a place that required all hands to be on deck. <br/>Poison, however, was proving to be difficult to sway. And Kobra knew, okay, he knew that he was still healing, and he knew he was still wobbly on his crutches, and tired easily, but it was killing him to have to play the invalid, the coddling was getting to be too much. His brother specifically was treating Kobra like a damned glass doll, and Kobra had just about had enough. <br/>The special treatment had made sense in the beginning of course, and as much as Kobra hated it, he knew he needed it. Now though, Poison was going far too soft on Kobra. Poison still insisted on bringing Kobra his food, helping Kobra change his bandages, and he still tried to force Kobra to stay in bed rather than letting him hobble around the diner on crutches. Kobra was well beyond the point of needing to be babied every step of the way, and the rest of his crew mates seemed to get that. <br/>So when Poison told Kobra he had better stay behind at the diner and rest instead of going to the balck market, Kobra resolutely got up, limped his way over to Dr. D’s van, and got in, buckling himself in tightly. Poison spluttered for a minute about the ride being too long and needing to keep Kobra away from the filth of the market, but one look at Kobra’s face told him he was fighting a losing battle. Poison had grumbled the whole way there, and by the time the crew had arrived and began to unpack their things, the tension was palpable, even to the other crews, who carefully steered themselves away from the van. <br/>Jet, Ghoul, and Dr. D quickly picked up the mood and headed their separate ways to conduct business. After receiving several death glares from Kobra, Poison also left the van to mingle among the crowd, leaving Kobra to brood. For while it was alright, just sitting quietly and nodding at various people as they passed by. Most people had heard about Kobra’s accident by then, so they weren’t surprised to see him bar one leg. Injuries in the desert gave Kobra a strange place in the hierarchy of killjoys, since he had survived a wicked crash, but had suffered the consequences. Kobra began to wonder how many people here now pitied him or thought he was useless, which soured his mood even further. <br/>The dark thoughts that lived with him had been stirring, more and more as time went by. These days, kobra felt like they were just barely on the surface, raring to go and wreak havoc on his life. Feeling restless from it, he got up and pulled his crutches over, getting ready to walk. All of the sudden he really needed to clear his head. Before he could though, he was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see just then. <br/>“Where are you going?” Poison asked, walking up to the Van out of no-where. <br/>“I wanted to walk around.” Kobra said shortly, trying and failing to get around his brother and on his way. Poison had his arm on Kobra’s chest preventing him from moving forward. <br/>“I really think it’s better if you stay here. You could get hurt walking around, or tear your stitches.” <br/>“It’s fine.” Kobra bit out. He could feel it, something rising in him, sick and murky. He needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else right now. He swiveled as quick as he could and went around to the front of the van, hoping his brother wouldn’t follow, but he did. <br/>“Kobra, come on, come sit down, you need-”<br/>“What I need is for you to leave me the fuck alone!” Kobra burst out. He gave in. He was drowning now. The rage was deep, filling his nose and mouth until he couldn’t see anything, just feel his anger, spewing out of him. <br/>“None of this would have happened if you had just left it alone and let me deal with my own shit! You can’t let me do anything on my own! You had to start that race and now you won’t let me help out with things! I can’t even walk around the diner on my own without crutches, and even when I do that you still can’t drop it!” <br/>Poison stood stock still, his mouth hanging open in shock. In Kobra’s mind, he knew what he was saying. How damaging it would be to his brother. But the sick feeling in his gut was too pleased to finally be free. <br/>“Is-is that how you really feel?” Poison said, trying to get his mind to catch up to Kobra’s words and trying his best to ignore the guilt welling up tears in his eyes. He reached out to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Kobra just smacked it away. <br/>“I’m sick of you treating me like I’m-I’m some goddamned charity case! I don’t want your pity!”<br/>Suddenly the sick feeling turned inward and Kobra could feel himself fill with self loathing. It swirled inside of him like a swarm, pricking his insides and pulling him down. <br/>“I know I’m useless now,” He continued hoarsely, backing away from Poison, “I know I’m a sad excuse for a killjoy, and I’m as good as dead in the zones. But you don’t need to remind me. You don’t need to remind me that I'm fucked up, ok?”<br/>With that he could feel the waves in him crash down, and he came crashing with it. He let the crutches fall and they stumbled down onto the ground, sitting down in the hot desert sand. He didn’t dare look up at his brother then, knowing full well that Poison was probably still looking at him in pity. Poor Kobra. Poor broken little brother. Kobra wanted nothing more than to sink into the sand and disappear. <br/>“Kobra…” Poison started, and Kobra could hear how broken Poison sounded. Poison reached out for his brother, to comfort him but Kobra slapped his hand away a second time.<br/>“Go! Stay away from me!” He shouted, putting his hands over his head in a desperate attempt to make himself smaller. <br/>He didn’t know how long he sat there for, but eventually hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him up. Kobra wanted to fight it for a brief second, but then he recognized the hands as Jet’s, and he let himself go limp in Jet’s arms. Jet helped him limp to another car and loaded him in the passenger seat before hopping in to drive the car. <br/>“Did you hear.” Kobra asked weakly, looking at Jet’s shoulder but not daring to meet his eyes. <br/>“Yeah.”<br/>“Where’s my brother?” <br/>“With Ghoul.” Jet answered eventually, “I-after we heard what was going on I had Ghoul take Poison out for a walk. I knew you probably wanted some space so…” <br/>“Thanks.” Kobra mumbled. <br/>“Do you-”<br/>“Can we just go back to the diner? Please?” Kobra asked tightly, not wanting to talk about how he had lost it. <br/>Jet nodded his head in assent and then started the car. They were quiet for a while after that, both men lost in their thoughts. Kobra let his cheek rest on the window and watched as the desert flew by. He missed this part of driving, and remembering it made him ache all over again for the things he had lost. Giving voice to the nasty thought he had been having was hard, but now that he had said them, he was even more convinced that they were true. No one was even bothering to correct him, which only seemed to confirm the worst. He was better off dead if he couldn’t drive.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>